Friendly Fire
by Appreciates Fine Labrats
Summary: Greg can't get away from his betrayer. A friend feels responsible for the dire circumstances. Will Greg ever escape his seductress' sights? Not Slash
1. The Ecstacy

**Originally supposed to be a one-shot that's been kicking around in my head for a while. Please tell me if it's too violent for a T rating; there won't be anything more violent than this. **

**Enjoy the Grangst.**

**I don't own these characters!**

It was late in the night; one of those Las Vegas nights that don't come around very often and are missed all the more for their rarity. The air was sweet but not heavy with humidity, and the moon shone down on the city as if blessing the people in it, even knowing that some of the acts they were engaged in were reproachable.

Greg stood outside a bar close to his home, nervously pacing near the entrance. He hunched his shoulders at some perceived looks from passer-bys, his face registering veiled embarrassment at being seen alone like that. He dug his hands deep into his pockets, then took them out quickly and patted his sides, trying to look nonchalant. It was times like these he wished he was a smoker so he could have something to do with his hands.

"I am going to kill Nick," he muttered under his breath, checking his reflection in the windows behind him once again. "What possessed me to agree to a blind date?" He squinted and poked an errant spike into place.

"Excuse me, are you Greg?"

Greg jumped at the voice which was startlingly close to his ear. He whipped around and came face to face with a woman looking at him with an amused grin. Her eyes were large and brown, and her lips shone faintly in the light from a streetlamp. They were large and full, but had a wicked bend to them.

"Nick told me to look for a guy with spiky hair," she continued, stepping back to a more comfortable distance and adjusting her purse.

"Um, yeah, hi," said Greg finally, vainly trying to regain his composure by leaning against the wall cooly. "I'm Greg. That's me!" It had come out rather squeaky, and he coughed brusquely to cover it up.

"And I'm Bonnie," she smiled slightly.

"Of Bonnie and Clyde?" Greg joked, slightly more at ease now with the added space.

"The very same," she said. "I went to a great plastic surgeon; he patched up those bullet holes damn well."

Greg laughed and extended his hand towards the door to the bar.

"Shall we go in?"

"Let's," she said, smiling mysteriously.

The date went well into the night as Greg became more confident and drank a little more than was good for him. He finally stopped talking and cocked his head to the side.

"Are you all right? You seem quiet...I guess I'm talking too much, huh?" He took a swig from his beer to hide his embarrassment.

His date shook her head and smiled, reaching across the table and placing her hand on top of his.

"Actually...I was thinking we could take this back to your place..." She gave him a suggestive look and brushed her leg against his.

Greg's body froze momentarily and a slow flush crept up his cheeks. He nodded mutely, pleased at how the evening was turning out. It had been such a long time since he'd been out with a flesh and blood woman, and the beer flowing through his system made his thoughts flitter around excitedly. He slid out of the booth quickly, pulled a few bills from his pocket and tossed them on the table. Trying not to seem too eager, he held out his hand to her.

"Shall we?"

"Let's," she smiled confidently, shooting him another smoldering look from beneath her lashes as she took his hand. Greg's knees weakened considerably and he stumbled out the door with her in an ecstatic daze.

Greg stood outside his door, fumbling with his keys. Finally he located the right one and slid it into the lock, pushing open the door with one shoulder. He flipped on the light and looked around with bleary eyes to make sure it was sufficiently presentable. His date had come up behind him and looked inside as well, her breath brushing warmly against his neck and making his hair rise and palms sweat. She had a habit of placing herself uncomfortably close to his body, whether by accident or because she knew how nervous it made him. The very touch of her skin sent his heart to palpitating and his thoughts scattering.

"Well, this is it," he motioned to the neatly furnished living room.

"Very nice," she said, not moving from his side. Her voice came from right beside his ear and he gulped down his eagerness, his body shaking with suppressed energy. She slid her arm around his torso and whispered into his ear. "Why don't you show me your bedroom?"

Greg nodded silently, starting down the hall, though she walked in front of him purposefully. Once inside she pressed herself against him eagerly and sought out his lips. They stayed locked in the fierce embrace for a while, tongues interlocked and passion rising. She threw her purse onto the bed and they fell into it, tearing each other's clothes off recklessly. Greg barely registered what he was doing, letting his desire move his body for him. When they finally came up for air, Greg remembered the protection and he weakly began to fumble for the drawer of his nightside table. She wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him back into a deep kiss.

"It's ok," she murmured into his ear, panting. "There's no need."

In any other state than this altered one, Greg would have protested, but the taste of her lips dissolved his will and he groaned acceptance, pressing her down into the bed. He was aware of her groaning pleasurably under him as he leaned on his elbows and cradled her head in his hands. In the haze of alcohol and the sheer force of his lust it did not take him long to moan his readiness. As he exploded his body jerked up and he threw his head back, eyes squeezed shut, his orgasm rocking through him, and so it was that he did not feel the body under him tense, the arm slide around his chest and the knife plunge into his back with a sickening slither. His cry of pleasure turned into a scream of agony and his eyes flew open, his body still frozen with shock as nerves reeled with sensation. He let out a strangled groan and slowly toppled forward onto her body, wide eyes unfocused and face frozen. She slid out from under him and ran her fingers through her hair. He lay on the bed, cheek pressed into the mattress, eyes still unfocused and chest heaving, the blood spreading across his back and slipping down his sides to stain the bed crimson.

"Aah..." He moaned, trembling fingers reaching out and catching her arm as she was about to stand up. His grip was weak but he managed to stall her. "Why..." The anguished whisper choked out of his trembling lips, the effort sending his torso into quivering spasms, and his eyes cried with the pain of betrayal.

She turned back and loomed over him with an exultant grin, chest heaving with a wicked pleasure and eyes burning. Her arm shook off his imploring hand and it fell to the sheets limply.

"I like to watch..." Her answer was enigmatic and he wasn't sure which 'why' she was answering, but the cruel pleasure she had derived from looking into his eyes as his orgasm had hit and she had added her vengeance was answer enough.

Her hands caught the sides of his face and she pressed her lips into his forcefully, though he recoiled from the vile touch and a strangled moan of disgust bubbled up in his mouth. She forced herself onto his weakened body, tongue probing with the fire of victory and eyes boring into his. She released his face and he fell back into the bed, a sigh escaping his lips and eyes fluttering with the extreme effort of maintaining consciousness. She stood and gathered her things, exiting the room stealthily and leaving him sprawled on the bed, twitching weakly against the blood-stained sheets.

He moved his arm slowly, sending waves of pain and nausea rocking through him, to clutch weakly at the covers and pull them across his body, stopping with small cries to regain his waning strength. He shook with the excruciating effort it had taken for even this small motion, and he sobbed with shame. Blood flecked his lips and he struggled to keep his eyes open, mind still reeling with fear and regret. He sank finally into blessed darkness.


	2. Great Expectations

Nick's case that night had been as close to a slam dunk as he could make it in his line of work, and so he found himself in high spirits as he made his way to the car park, whistling an unrecognizable tune. He was all ready to go home and sink happily into bed, but upon inserting his keys into the ignition he remembered that Greg's date had taken place earlier that night. Intending only to check on his friend's state of mind, Nick made a detour into Greg's neighbourhood. If he'd gotten lucky, all the better, and Nick could leave knowing his good deed as a friend was done. It'd been a long time, he knew, since Greg had been with a girl, and Bonnie had seemed like his type, as little as he knew her. In fact, he couldn't really even remember the circumstances that had brought him to suggest the idea to her, only that she seemed particularly excited about it. Had she suggested it? When he thought more about it, he couldn't even remember if he had approached her first, nor really where they had met.

When Nick pulled into the visitor's parking of Greg's building complex, he counted up and across to find Greg's bedroom out of habit. The window was open, flimsy curtains blowing in the wind that had picked up that morning. Nick knew Greg was vigilant about leaving his doors locked and windows closed, so it puzzled him that he would be so careless. He pushed his worries aside, attributing it to the likelihood that Greg hadn't been to sleep yet. The sun blinked down at him, promising a day as beautiful as the night had been, and he grinned to himself. Greg could talk about latex all he wanted, but Nick had seen his datebook enough to know that was probably all talk. He would definitely have taken the plunge tonight and be too occupied to worry about the windows. He bounded up the stairs and knocked on Greg's door, raising his voice to be heard inside. "Hey G, you decent? Open up -- " He was startled to see it creak open slowly and the sentence died on his lips. A sense of foreboding settled into the pit of his stomach and he glanced into the apartment. It was dark inside the room, morning light penetrating little through the thick curtains at the window. His instincts pricked and he brought a hand to rest on the holstered gun at his hip, nudging the door open and sidling into the room.

"Greg?" He called out low into the room. "Hey, buddy, you here? You okay?"

The hair on the back of his neck crackled as he made his way down the corridor, distinctly uneasy at the silence which filled the apartment like a thick blanket, all the more unusual because its owner almost always had music playing somewhere. Nick slid his gun out of its place and stood uncomfortably outside Greg's bedroom door, which was slightly ajar, unsure whether his instincts were enough to invade his friend's privacy. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open, stepping quickly and warily into the room. The sight which greeted him was ghastly and he took a horrified step back, gripping the door frame tightly. Greg lay deathly still on the bed, a bloody sheet half covering his naked body and a dagger protruding from his back. Sunlight shone on the scene, heedlessly illuminating the sickly sheen which covered Greg's skin and the crimson stains that spoke of the brutality of his encounter.

"Greg!" Nick cried out and ran to the side of the bed, his insides paralyzed with fear. "Greg! Answer me!" He hardly remembered what he yelled to the emergency operator before throwing down the receiver and vainly clutching at the bloody sheets. He let out a frustrated howl, knowing he couldn't even touch the body for fear he would make the wound worse. Finally he sank to his knees and stared at Greg, willing him to show a sign of life, anything to quell his worries. He waited for what seemed an eternity, but was really only a few minutes, tears slowly taking over as he tried not to look at the dagger grotesquely decorating his friend's body. He placed a shaking hand on Greg's face and sobbed at the clammy feel of his skin, then quickly snatched it away. Was there any hope? His breath caught in his throat when Greg's eyes fluttered and his unfocused gaze came to rest on Nick's face.

"Nick..." The sound was shockingly weak and barely escaped Greg's lips; Nick leaned towards him, smiling through his tears and grasping the hand that was quivering towards him imploringly.

"It's okay Greg, you're going to be fine," said Nick, trying to impart hope to his friend which he barely felt himself. "Help is coming, you're gonna be fine, buddy."

"Aah..." A quiet sigh escaped Greg's lips before his body convulsed with a racking cough that sent fresh blood dripping from his mouth and his eyes rolling back in his head with pain. Nick grabbed a shirt on the floor and dabbed at Greg's lips, clenching his fists tightly in frustration. He couldn't give up the fight...

"Stay with me, Greg. Please, Greg" He continued talking to him, more to keep his nerves in check than from any real hope that Greg would respond. He begged him to keep fighting, cajoling, then finally ordering him to stay alive, voice breaking at each wrenching cough.

Finally sirens wailed through the air and Nick sobbed with relief, leaning out the window to scream directions at them. He paced anxiously while they began their work, emotions overwhelming his mind and his body hovering on the verge of panic. The paramedics refused to confirm that Greg would be fine and ignored his repeated questions, only pushing him away firmly so they could do their work. Somehow he made it to the hospital with Greg, somehow he even remembered to lock the apartment; or had he? He could barely remember being forcefully denied entry to the ICU, though he knew he would be of no help. It was all too much! And the worst were his own thoughts. Bent over a chair he wept without shame, cries echoing off the walls to mock his failure anew.


	3. Fear and Loathing

**Still not sure whether this should be rated T or M. Hopefully someone can set me straight, and on that note reviews are always appreciated and make me write faster.**

The news raced through the lab's halls like wildfire, plucking techs from their work and leaving them huddled in corners, whispering the vicious rumours. Greg's possible involvement in a murder, or his death, or his attack were popular topics. About all they could agree on was Nick's involvement in the matter, though what he had done they couldn't figure out. There was even a hushed rumour that Nick had attacked Greg, though the old timers scoffed at the idea. Nick would never intentionally hurt a team-mate.

Little did they know, it had taken the combined efforts of the entire night shift to keep Nick from hurling himself off the roof until finally he locked himself in an empty room and refused to speak to anyone. Various members of the team took turns either standing guard at the door, turning people away, trying to coax him out or find out what had happened. They met outside his door periodically throughout the day, exchanging worried glances before shaking their heads sadly and returning to their investigations. Greg's attack was enough of a mystery to them, but Nick's over the top reaction caused them twice the grief. Was Nick somehow involved?

Grissom sat quietly in the hospital's waiting area, lost in thought. He had made the right decision; insisting the team go start the investigation before seeing Greg. Imagining the worst, Grissom did not want them incapacitated as they grieved for their friend. He'd given himself the task of seeing Greg first and keeping them up to date on his condition. He sat, waiting for the news he dreaded. He had caught a brief glance of Greg while he was being wheeled into surgery, and was shocked at how awful he looked. More than anything Grissom wished he could be of help to Greg, but all he could do was wait.

Finally a grave-looking doctor in blood-stained scrubs pushed through the OR doors. He approached the patient man sitting in the hall, weariness making his steps heavy.

"Gil Grissom, I presume?" he asked.

Grissom stood up, nervously eyeing the stains on the doctor's clothing.

"I apologize; I must look terrible. But I thought you might want to know right away that the surgery went fine, although we're not out of the woods yet. Your friend was extremely lucky. The knife managed to avoid puncturing any vital organs or even an artery, but the amount of time he was without medical attention and the massive blood loss he sustained very nearly killed him. We had to give him two transfusions. If -- " He emphasized the word if, to Grissom's dismay. "-- he doesn't experience any complications from the blood, we can be... tentatively hopeful. That's about the most I can give you; I'm sorry."

Grissom took in the news with a certain amount of calm, causing the doctor to raise an eyebrow. How could Grissom explain to him that this was his way? His way of dealing with emotions he wasn't ready to admit to.

"There's something else, Mr. Grissom," the doctor continued, hesitating with a pained look on his face. "Even if he comes out of critical condition, there may be other complications -- we cannot test him at the moment, but his limbs may have lost too much oxygen. He may lose one. Or there may be brain damage. Only time will tell."

Grissom sighed and pressed his palms to his face. There was an inhuman frustration growing within him, and all he could do was stare helplessly at the doors leading to Greg's operating room.

"Thank you for keeping me informed, doctor," he said finally, voice husky with emotion. "I know you're doing all you can."

The doctor nodded and left to clean up. Grissom began pacing, trying to release all the pent-up energy he had. Thankfully there was no one in this part of the hospital today, because although he had been here quite a few times for suspects, today was altogether different.

The ringing of his cell phone startled him out of his thoughts. It was Catherine, no doubt checking up on Greg. Grissom was shocked to discover he had been waiting through the surgery for 10 hours, and all for nothing. Greg was barely in better shape than when he had been brought in; there could even be more complications.

"Hey, Cath."

"Hey, Gris. How is everything?"

"As well as can be expected, I suppose. I just talked to the doctor; Greg's out of surgery now."

"And? Have you seen him yet?" There was a fearful note to her voice, as if she didn't want to hear the answer.

"He's not out of the woods. The doctor said he could be tentatively hopeful."

"That's supposed to be reassuring, right?" asked Catherine, a hint of sarcasm evident. Trust a doctor to be vague.

The next question came from Grissom and was expected, but it still made Catherine squirm. She definitely didn't want to answer it, but she couldn't lie to him.

"How is Nick? Is he talking yet?"

"Warrick managed to get in and talk with him. Got the...uh...story out of him." Catherine grimaced.

"What happened?" All sorts of questions were piling on top of each other in Grissom's overtaxed mind. What did Nick have to do with Greg's stabbing? Why did he feel so responsible? What was he even doing at Greg's house at just the right time? The implications of the last question were too absurd to even dwell on, but Grissom could still remember how they had found Nick, bent over a chair, clutching his head and sobbing like a broken man, blood covering his hands and smeared all over his face. Tears had eroded shaky lines down his face so it resembled some sort of macabre clown mask. They had rarely seen their friend so wracked with guilt, and yet he had refused to answer their questions, only moaning "I'm sorry" repeatedly and staring past them to the ICU with haunted eyes.

"I really don't think Nick is as much to blame as he seems to think, I mean really how could he have known?" Catherine was rambling out of nervousness, and Gil had to finally cut her off with an exasperated, "Catherine!"

"It seems Nick set Greg up on a blind date with a girl he barely knew...He's convinced she stabbed Greg and he thinks it's all his fault."

Grissom's face registered all his conflicting emotions, first shock, then pity, then confusion and finally disbelief. How could Nick blame himself for that? But that was Nick, Grissom immediately realized. This perceived betrayal of a close friend was just about as bad as stabbing Greg himself, at least in Nick's mind.

"Well, I guess we have a lead now. Check around Greg's area for any restaurants and bars they might have gone to. Also start dusting the scene for prints that'll tell us who she is. And for God's sake get Nick to tell you everything he knows about her! And I mean everything!" Grissom's emotions finally overtook him and uncharacteristically, anger was the first to breach the surface. There was a startled silence on the other end, then a hasty, "Sure thing, boss," before Catherine hung up.

Grissom shook his head wearily, putting the phone away. He hadn't meant to snap at Catherine, and he wasn't really angry at Nick either. It must have felt awful to see Greg at his most vulnerable, and to know you had set up the opportunity for it to happen. Grissom pursed his lips as he began to formulate a way for both members of his team to heal, and give him time to take care of his investigation. He dialed the number to his own office, pacing impatiently when no one picked up. He had to retry three times before he heard a click. Silence. A shaky and quiet voice eventually answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Nick," said Grissom, smoothing his voice as if he were talking to a child.

"Grissom..." Nick's voice was barely a whisper, choked up with tears.

"Don't you think that's just about enough of that, Nick?" There was more firmness in Grissom's voice now.

"Enough of what?" came Nick's dusty reply.

"Beating yourself up about it won't change anything, and besides, don't you think it would be better if you were here with him when he wakes up? Abandoning him in a hospital to berate yourself in a locked room won't get you his forgiveness." Grissom deliberately made the last part harsh, hoping it would shock Nick into some normalcy.

There was a prolonged silence on the other end, before Nick's scratchy voice came through. "I'll be right there, Gris. I won't leave until he's okay."

"That's a good idea, Nick," said Grissom kindly. Let's hope he doesn't start beating himself up for this, too, thought Grissom wryly. Hopefully staying with Greg will purge his guilt, and it's not like he's quite fit enough to work the case.

Grissom was again lost in thought when a shift in the light announced Nick's presence. He looked up and was shocked at the man's appearance. Nick's clothing was rumpled and blood-stained, his face haggard and eyes bloodshot. The skin around his eyes bore dark circles and there was a slight shake to his shoulders, as if some tears had not yet made their way to the surface. Grissom stood up and placed a hand on his shoulder, but Nick gave no response.

"Is he...How is he?" he whispered, eyes fixated on the doors.

"Cautiously optimistic," replied Grissom, unwilling to share all of the condition he'd received from the doctor.

Nick quivered a bit, then turned and stared at Grissom with pleading, tear-stained eyes. "He'll be okay, won't he?"

Grissom hesitated, wondering if he should be honest or just reassure him. He chose the latter, deciding that now was not the time for pessimism.

"It'll be okay, and Greg will definitely pull through. Thanks to you," he said, patting Nick's back awkwardly.

"Thanks to me he's fighting for his life," said Nick, eyes snapping shut. He let himself fall into a chair, resting his head against the wall.

"Thanks to you he got the help he needed as soon as possible," said Grissom firmly. "How were you to know she would turn out to be a sociopath?"

Nick didn't answer. He didn't know the answer himself. Not for lack of trying; he'd been kicking himself all day trying to figure it out. He should have known! He couldn't even remember where he met her. She just appeared in his life, calling him, and finally asking if he had any single friends. Why didn't she ask him out? That should have been a big red flag, right there. Maybe she had been trying to get to Greg specifically. And Nick had led her right to him. Flashes of the knife sticking out of Greg's back assaulted him and he gritted his teeth. Eyeing the door to the operating room, he made a silent promise to Greg. I'll find her and make her pay, buddy.

Grissom waited for Nick to say something. When he didn't, Grissom cleared his throat and started towards the exit.

"Keep us informed, ok Nick? I'm going to go back to the lab," he said over his shoulder.

"Mm," grunted Nick, eyes still fixed on the doors to Greg. Grissom sighed and left the room.

Hang in there, buddy, thought Nick, settling more deeply into his chair and preparing for the long night ahead. The hush of the hospital and soft sounds of ventilation lulled him into sleep.


	4. Visitors

**Phew. This one was a doozy. I hope it turned out okay. Thanks to everyone for their reviews.**

The hospital was calm, hushed even. Nurses and doctors passed by the serenely slumbering man, neither having the heart to wake him up nor send him home. Someone else passed him also, stealing quietly through the halls and avoiding the staff. They kept their face down, clutching in one hand the ID card which gave them complete access to this part of the hospital. They lingered briefly over the sleeping man's blood-stained form, reaching out as if to caress his face, then snatching that same hand away as if on fire. Now was not the time. It was another's attention they craved. Head ducked nervously, twitchy fingers tucked strands of hair behind their ears; they hurried down a private hallway, glancing into doorways surreptitiously. They found one which seemed to their liking and they hovered at the small window, peeking inside, a pained expression on their face as if waging an internal battle. Looking around furtively they reached for the handle and slipped into the room, allowing the door to close with a soft click.

The room's sole occupant slept soundlessly, aided by machines which emitted a continuous beeping lullaby. The unnoticed intruder stood with back to the door, eyes traveling slowly down the injured man's body. They crept on silent feet to the side of his bed, staring down at his head which thrashed as if in the throes of an unpleasant dream. A slight frown creased his perfect features and his mouth opened in a silent gasp as a tentative finger traced his jawline. A soft moan escaped his perfect lips and the intruder withdrew their hand, sitting down in a chair pulled up to the bed. They drew a leg up to the edge of their seat, face struggling with a problem. Bringing a hand up to their lips, they gnawed on a nail absently. There was an indecision in their movements, as if they had been drawn to the room involuntarily, and, once there, didn't know what to do. They reached out once more, running fingers down the man's neck, then snatching them back as if a child, frightened by his more insistent tossing. They went back to gnawing at a finger, a vacant smile crossing their face. A nervous tongue flicked at dry lips. They leaned forward, intense eyes fixed on the man's face. As if sensing this unwanted attention, the man's struggles became more pronounced. The other occupant of the room took no notice of his movements, sitting perfectly still with eyes fixed to the man's face. As the machine's incessant beeping increased, the intruder became agitated, looking sharply from the door and back to the object of their scrutiny. They stood abruptly, turning as if to exit, then appeared to change their mind and crept to the side of the man's head, bringing their lips to his. Fingers inched down his chest. A shrill alarm began to blare, and the intruder turned quickly, slipping out the door and closing it with an inconspicuous snap. They glanced from side to side and finding the way clear, crossed into deeper shadows, moving hastily down the hall. They stole past the still-sleeping man and turned a corner into another hallway.

The man woke with a start, alerted by some invisible presence or disturbing feeling. He looked around quickly, unaware of the silent interloper who snuck through the hospital's halls, dropping the misappropriated ID card outside a nurses' station, there to be found gratefully by the absentminded staff worker. No one would think to raise the alarm; there was nothing to alert them to the unwanted presence's actions except by the alarm calling nurses running to a room down a lonely hallway. The man stood up, staggering after them.

"What's going on?" he demanded from a passing woman. She stopped, looking him over sympathetically.

"One of the patients set off his alarm, it's probably just a nightmare."

"My friend...when was he moved? Why wasn't I told?" The man seemed lost in his surroundings. The nurse placed a compassionate hand on his arm and he calmed down.

"We didn't want to wake you, it looked like you needed the rest. Is your friend Greg Sanders?"

He nodded.

"He was moved into a recovery room. You can visit him once he's been calmed down, but he will still be sedated for some time."

The man nodded thankfully, following her down the adjacent hallway.

_______

Nick sat by Greg's bed, idly playing with the edge of his blanket. He stared down at his hands, lost in melancholy thoughts. How would he face Greg when he woke up? The guilt gnawing at him had not abated during his sleep, and now, seeing Greg in this bed, struggling painfully with God-knows-what demons, he could hardly live with himself. So he stared at his hands instead of looking into Greg's face. A soft noise caught his attention; he straightened quickly and watched the stirring figure in the bed. Greg coughed weakly, throat clearing after long hours of disuse. Nick clenched the blanket tightly. Greg's eyes fluttered, trying to focus on the blurry figure at his side. As his senses cleared of the drug-induced fog, he could see the man more clearly.

"Nick?" he whispered hoarsely.

"Hey, Greg," smiled Nick shakily. "Welcome back buddy."

"Where am I?" said Greg, shifting his head to look around. He was groggy, and moving was hardly bearable, so he stopped and looked back at Nick.

"The hospital," said Nick, shifting uncomfortably. "You're going to be fine, they tell me."

Well, they tell me they aren't sure if you're going to be fine, thought Nick bitterly.

Greg's eyes travelled around the room once more, then came back to Nick where they lingered. He blinked in confusion, as if trying to remember something desperately important.

"I'm going to ring for the nurse, ok Greg? They told me to when you woke up," said Nick quietly, pressing the call button.

Greg nodded absently, still staring at Nick with that searching expression. A nurse entered the room shortly and began busying herself with Greg's comfort, closely followed by the doctor who was evidently to perform the tests. Nick could hardly bear Greg's scrutiny and hurriedly excused himself. He stood outside the door, leaning against the wall and breathing deeply. Eventually he'd have to go back in there to talk to him, and beg forgiveness. He rather absent-mindedly reached into his pocket for his cell phone, noticing it had been set to vibrate and held ten missed calls. All from the team, checking up on Greg. And what could Nick tell them? He'd know soon enough. Hoping against hope that there would be no further damage, beyond the psychological -- of which I'm the cause, he thought morosely -- Nick tapped at the floor with an impatient foot. Soon the doctor and nurse exited Greg's room. Nick stepped in front of them immediately.

"Well? Is he going to be all right?"

"It looks like there is no permanent nerve damage and his brain function is fine, although he is still quite groggy and will be for some time. The memory loss is natural and should return soon. We gave him some more medication for the pain, so he might not be quite lucid when you talk to him," said the doctor. "Please don't be too long as he does need his rest." Nick thanked him gratefully, nearly collapsing against the wall in relief. When the doctor left he hurriedly fumbled to dial his phone, putting it to his ear.

"Grissom."

"Gris, it's Nick! Greg just woke up."

"How is he?" The concern was evident in Grissom's voice.

"He couldn't remember much right away, but the doctor said everything's fine physically. They expect a full recovery," said Nick breathlessly.

"That's wonderful. I'll tell the rest of the team." Grissom hesitated briefly before continuing. "How are you doing, Nick?"

"I'm fine, it's just...hard," said Nick, staring at the tiles beneath his feet.

"Listen, I'm sure I speak for Greg when I say you are not at all to blame for what happened."

"Yeah, well, I'll wait for Greg's verdict," sighed Nick heavily. Faltering, he continued, "Is there any news...on the case?"

Grissom grunted in frustration. "Not much, I'm afraid. Her prints are at his apartment, but she's not in any databases. We found the bar they went to, and got a description that matches yours, but it doesn't match anyone in the database and the name she gave is also fake. It's as if she doesn't exist."

A fresh wave of guilt claimed Nick and his eyes prickled uncomfortably. He wiped them with the back of a hand. Would he never be able to give Greg the justice he deserved?

"Well I'm sure something will come up," he said, hoping he sounded positive.

"We'll keep trying, of course. Keep us informed. We're going to head over as soon as we can," said Grissom, hanging up.

Nick snapped his phone shut and grasped the door handle, pushing it open cautiously. He stepped into Greg's room and froze, staring at him. Greg was sitting up now, eyes half open, but their gaze penetrating and...knowing.

Oh God, thought Nick. He remembers.

Nick forced himself to walk all the way into the room, meeting that blank gaze that was neither accusatory nor forgiving. He sat down in a chair awkwardly.

"Greg..." he began, but found himself at a loss for words. How do you tell a man that's just been through something so horrific that you're...sorry? Just sorry? Was that enough? A frown crossed Greg's face, then morphed into an expression of unspeakable suffering and loss. Nick's heart wrenched within him, and a flood of words and feelings escaped his mouth.

"Greg I am so sorry. I can't begin to explain how sorry I am --"

"Then don't," interrupted Greg.

"But --"

"It's not your fault, Nick," said Greg firmly. "I can't help it that she was a psycho, and neither can you. Anyways, it's my fault for not being more careful. I shouldn't have, you know, right away..." He looked away uncomfortably, fighting off incipient tears. Unfortunately the movement was too sudden for him and a searing pain travelled up his spine, causing him to gasp and grit his teeth. Nick stood in alarm, reaching out to him, but Greg only waved his hand away. The pain subsided and Greg leaned back in bed, sweating and shaky. He closed his eyes wearily.

"I'm kind of tired, Nick. I think the meds are starting to kick in," he said finally, eyes open but not quite meeting Nick's worried stare. Nick sighed and nodded, realizing he was probably the last person Greg wanted to talk to right now. He hesitated briefly at the door and addressed Greg.

"Brass will be by later to take your statement if...if you're ready."

Greg nodded tiredly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone, and so Nick left the room, sensing now was not the time. He didn't notice the head duck quickly back behind a corner, nor the eyes that narrowed at him speculatively. He clutched his phone tightly, glancing back at the room, then shook his head sorrowfully and walked away. The eyes followed him.

Greg lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He hadn't meant to be so harsh with Nick, but his emotional state wasn't ready to deal with any of it. His body was sluggish, no doubt due to all the drugs surging through his veins, and his mind wasn't much better. He knew vaguely that he should be more upset, especially after what had happened, but he just couldn't make himself react. A great weariness settled on him and he allowed sleep to carry him off. A brief thought flashed by -- something he should remember. Something he remembered from one of his dreams, that screamed at him to be wary, to be afraid, but he could only acknowledge the thought from afar. He sank into the covers, lying back and allowing the numbing drugs to take over his body.

A figure dislodged itself from the shadows and checked either end of the hallway before entering the dozing man's room.

_______

Nick sat in the waiting area, head in hands. He hadn't meant to leave Greg so readily, but Greg obviously didn't want to talk to him. And why would he? Nick debated going back to comfort him somehow, but what would be the point? Greg would talk when he was ready, and having to give a statement to Brass later would be stressful enough. Better that he get some sleep now, while he could and before his story became public knowledge. Nick shook his head -- sooner or later he'd have to go back to the lab and face the questions. His phone rang, startling him to attention.

"Hello?"

"Hey Nick, it's Brass. How's Sanders?"

"He's okay, they expect a full recovery," said Nick, rubbing at his face in exhaustion.

"When can I come over to get his statement?"

"He just fell asleep, I think this has all been a bit much for him right now. Can you come back in a few hours, maybe, so he can get some rest?"

"Sure, it can wait. And Nick -- "

"Yeah?"

"Go home and get some rest. Grissom told me you've been there all night." Brass' voice was kind.

Nick looked down at his blood-stained clothing and scratched his head. "I guess you're right. I should get cleaned up a little too, and Greg is fine now."

"See you."

Standing up wearily, Nick promised Greg he'd be back in a few hours.

_______

Greg slept peacefully, unaware of the excited presence hovering protectively over his body. Their hands fluttered over his figure before finally coming to rest on his shoulders. Greg woke with a gasp, eyes springing open to stare at the person leaning over him.

"You!" he moaned, momentarily fighting through the drugged haze, heart tightening in fear.

She smiled happily, glad he remembered their time together. Then, emotions flitting over her face rapidly, she frowned slightly, bringing his hand up to her mouth and resting his index finger on her lips.

"Shhh..." she murmured, breath floating over his skin and sending horrified shivers through his body. His eyes widened fearfully but his body seemed rooted to the spot. Something in the back of his mind told him he should be resisting this revolting encounter; he should find the button to alert someone, anyone, but he did nothing. Her eyes transfixed him, that same mysterious smile on her lips.

"It's okay, no one will disturb us for now. I can see you're worried, but no one will disturb us."

Greg shook silently.

She pouted, drawing closer to his face. "Why so quiet? On our date you had much more to say."

He shook his head, the whites of his eyes showing. HIs breath caught in his throat and he could only let out a gurgling sound. She touched his cheek gently, a concerned look coming over her face.

"You poor thing, you're shaking. What's got you so upset? I'm here now." She held up a finger knowingly, as if a brilliant idea had entered her mind. "Oh, I understand. You're afraid of the nurses, aren't you? They're so invasive, poking and prodding. Don't worry, honey, they won't be able to get to you anymore."

Greg stared at her, shaking with tears building up in the corners of his eyes, but her hand on his body had a restraining power and he couldn't make himself utter a sound.

"There, there, it's okay baby, I'll protect you from them," she said, smiling at him obliviously. She grasped the railing across from his body and pulled herself onto the nestled beside him, knee slowly traveling up his body and caressing his legs, an arm thrown around his chest. She ran her fingers down the neckline of his gown. A strangled moan rose from Greg's chest and he closed his eyes, stomach churning with nausea. She took no notice of his discomfort and burrowed closer to his body, cooing softly and smiling to herself. She rested her chin in the crook of his neck, breath coming in short, warm blasts on his exposed skin. He quivered under her touch.

"I came to see you, while you were sleeping. You were so peaceful, until I touched you. Then you were so happy to feel me," she purred into his ear. His eyes snapped open and he recoiled from her body. She rolled to cover his own more, fingers forceful as they explored it.

"I tried to leave, but I couldn't," she mused while playing with his hair. "You're so different from the others," she said, eyes boring into his feverishly. Suddenly a smile crossed her face. "I came back for you. Don't you feel it too? Your body is responding to mine."

She pursed her lips and lifted herself to straddle his thighs, eyes level with his.

"Don't you feel it, too?"

He nodded, face anguished. His chest shuddered with suppressed sobs.

"You know..." She ran her lips down his cheek. "You know I didn't mean to hurt you. You loved me, and I'm sorry. I love you too, baby. I know you couldn't live without me, and I couldn't do that to you."

A smile filled her face and she curved her body to fit his, pulling at his arms so they encircled her figure. Greg's overwhelmed mind snapped, his thoughts fighting against the rushing current of horror and devilish elixirs coursing through his blood. His environment became fluid and his mind was carried along with the current. He felt as if he were floating in a dream, and she was there, but she wasn't the vengeful demon from his nightmares. She said things to him, silken words penetrating the fog, and they were nice things, things he wanted to hear. The pain was gone now, as was the fear. He walked with open arms to the figure from his visions and embraced her. Tightening his arms protectively around the warm body in his lap, he was at ease. She would help him to heal. He smiled down at her, and she responded with an eager grin.

"I'll keep you safe from them, Greg," she whispered, catching his perfect lips in a kiss.

He nodded at her, succumbing to the delicious taste.

"And you'll come with me, won't you?" she pressed. "I'll come back for you and you'll join me. We couldn't live without each other." Her wide eyes were alarmed and he smiled reassuringly, calming her with a lingering kiss.

"Of course," she said, smiling. "And you won't tell anyone I was here? It'll be our little secret."

He shook his head, smiling serenely.

"Good," she said, closing her eyes and resting against him.

The drugs lulled him back to sleep, and that nagging feeling which told him to feel uncomfortable also dissipated with the blissful lethargy that enveloped him. The woman waited until he was asleep, then extricated herself from his arms and touched his face with a lingering hand. She crept to the door on light feet, closing it behind her quietly, and walked down the opposite hallway.


	5. Surprises

**Sorry about the delay. The story was there, in my head, just waiting to catch the right words. Which didn't come for a while. Anyways, I'm in the groove again now and we should be close to the end. **

Nick's decision to go home was probably a good one. After a long hot shower and a fresh change of clothes, he almost felt human again. It had also given him time to digest his guilt more thoroughly, so he could even look himself in the mirror as he dressed. Not seeing Greg's blood whenever he looked down at himself was a big step towards that improvement. Nonetheless, he wanted to get back to the hospital as quickly as possible, neatly avoiding the lab on the way. There was nothing more Nick could do for Grissom, and nothing more he wanted than not to have to answer all their questions. Still, Nick was surprised at his own detachment from the investigation -- he was usually the man of immediate action and unrelenting determination, but he was quite fine with stepping back for now. Maybe he felt a greater responsibility to be with Greg right now, or maybe he knew he couldn't be counted on to control himself if he was ever face to face with the woman who'd hurt Greg. He didn't miss the significance. Nick could easily be the one lying in a hospital, in pain from every movement. The feelings of relief he felt contributed in no small part to his guilt. Now all he could do to help his friend was pick up the pieces.

_______

Nick arrived at the hospital just in time to meet the team and Brass. He stiffened automatically at their looks; concerned and wary, they obviously remembered his previous night's reaction and were afraid he was still emotionally unsteady. He wasn't, and tried to convey it by smiling, but the effect was ruined by his worry for Greg. He wasn't expecting this many guests, and having to give his statement on top of that. But Greg is tough, he'll be able to handle it, thought Nick.

Catherine approached and enveloped him in a hug. Nick stood woodenly at first, keenly aware of the people watching, but something broke and he melted into her arms, hardly daring to breathe as emotions battled their way inside him. He really did need the compassion of a friend right now, and damned if he didn't care that others could see! Finally he cleared his throat gruffly and patted her back, stepping away. She smiled understandingly and suddenly he was filled with almost overwhelming gratitude for her motherly spirit. Somehow she'd known just what he needed. Maybe she should stay with Greg instead of him. Warrick grinned openly at him, but not meanly, so Nick cuffed him playfully and they continued inside.

Before entering Greg's room, Nick flagged down a doctor and pressed him for information on Greg's condition. The doctor, cornered by the entire team, answered nervously, beady eyes darting around at all the faces.

"Physically he's progressing well. It looks like there won't be any permanent damage. However, and this is quite normal for a traumatic event, he's experiencing a bit of memory loss and...and mixing up certain events in his head."

"Isn't that more common with head trauma?" asked Grissom doubtfully.

"Well, yes, but it does happen," said the doctor, a little flustered. Nick stared at him suspiciously, sure there was something the doctor wasn't telling them. "The memory loss is not a result of physical injury; it's more like he is repressing his experiences."

Sara was staring at him suspiciously, too, now. "Oh come on, repression?" she said.

"All I ask is that you tread carefully around the subject of his...attack. The hospital will assign him a psychiatrist to assess his...capacity." The doctor looked positively terrified at his last words, eyes dancing from one face to the other as if he expected them to attack him right there.

Sara's expression became dangerous as she said, "You mean, to decide whether he's crazy or not."

The doctor shook his head adamantly, tight-lipped.

"That's fine, I'm sure he's not. He just needs to talk to someone so he can get over the...incident," said Grissom calmly. Sara glanced at him in disbelief, but he continued as if he didn't see her. "What Greg needs right now is our support. Let's let the doctor get back to his job."

The doctor nodded gratefully and scurried down the corridor.

Nick, who had barely heard the exchange, asked impatiently, "Can we go see him now?"

Nodding slowly but looking at him now with a thoughtful expression, Grissom opened the door to Greg's room.

Greg was looking much better now than when Nick had first seen him, which brought an instant smile to his face. That sleep had definitely paid off. He even looked excited to see them and almost back to his normal self. From his experience with shrinks, Nick knew that wasn't good, but his residual guilt wanted to see some visual signs that Greg would be fine. They joked for a while about work, which Greg was eager to get back to. Suddenly Nick knew this was too good -- too perfect. Greg was acting as if nothing had happened, and he was way too cheerful. His eyes were glassy and he talked animatedly. Nick kept quiet, but he continually checked Greg's face and worried silently.

Finally Brass cleared his throat and broached the subject delicately.

"Er, right. I'm gonna have to get that statement from you now, Sanders. And I might as well get Nick's while we're at it, too."

Nick shrugged, covertly glancing at Greg. A momentary cloud of confusion passed his face, then quickly went away and he continued smiling happily. Nick exchanged a puzzled look with Grissom, who had noticed it too. This wasn't how Greg had first reacted to the idea, in fact Greg's behavior was a complete turnaround.

"We should leave, this is private," said Sara, standing up with Warrick and Catherine.

"No, no, you don't have to," said Greg with a disarming grin, "I don't really think I'll be able to help much, you know, I don't remember much."

They sat back down awkwardly. Nick and Grissom exchanged looks again. Something is definitely up with Greg, thought Nick. I'm gonna talk to him alone, after this.

"Ok then," said Brass, turning to Nick. "Why don't you start, Nick.

"All right," said Nick, staring at the ceiling pensively. "I was at my usual coffee place. A girl introduced herself to me and I gave her my number."

Warrick snickered at this. Nick ignored him, concentrating on the ceiling more.

"We didn't go out but sometimes we'd talk. She never gave me her number or told me where she lived, and I never saw her at the coffee place again." Nick shook his head wryly. "That should've been a good sign, right there, but I dunno...she just made it seem okay. After a while she asked if I had any single friends, and I thought of Greg," said Nick, shooting him a guilty look, but he seemed oblivious, "'Cause, well, I thought he hadn't had a date in a while."

There it was, the truth. Nick stared quickly back at the ceiling, overwhelmed with guilt again. Guilt for what he had done, what he hadn't done, and what his mistakes had cost Greg.

Brass scribbled his notes down carefully, then looked up.

"And what name did she use with you?"

"Bonnie," said Nick. "Never mentioned her last name."

At hearing her name, Greg had perked up, he was now nodding happily as if it had been the best experience of his life. A dreamy look crossed his face and now Grissom sat very straight in his chair, eyes narrowed. Nick looked at Greg sharply, much more alarmed, now. Even Brass could tell something wasn't right. He turned to Greg and continued gently.

"What happened then, Greg?"

Greg looked around at them all, bemused that they would care so much about his date.

"We met at Monaghan's, it's a bar around the corner from my building. Then we went back to my place and, uh, " he blushed. "You know, we had sex," he finished.

Brass raised his eyebrows. "And?" he prompted.

Greg gave him a puzzled look. "And what?"

"And what happened when she stabbed you?"

Greg looked shocked; he shook his head as if trying to clear a bad memory. For a second, Nick saw the old Greg, struggling to break free -- it was in the eyes, something cried out to Nick, and then it was gone. Greg smiled and shook his head firmly.

"No, Bonnie would never hurt me."

Nick stared at him, a horrible sinking feeling developing in the pit of his stomach.

"Greg, honey, we found her fingerprints all over your room and her DNA in your bed," said Catherine gently. "No one else was in your room."

Greg shook his head adamantly.

"If we catch her we'll have to charge her," said Brass carefully.

Greg became agitated, looking from face to face with a strange expression, as if he was struggling with some alien information.

"You can't!" he cried, clutching the sheets and trying to sit forward, but he gasped in pain. Alarms began to ring. They all jumped to keep him down, but he became more frantic, nearly crying. "You can't! No! No!"

"Why, Greg?" asked Brass, standing in the circle around him, stern and terrible.

"I love her!"


	6. Lines of Communication

**I don't own CSI, unfortunately. Just two more chapters to go. Please review, they are very appreciated.**

They stared at him, shocked. The room froze in a moment of pure insanity.

"Then who stabbed you?" asked Brass relentlessly.

"I...I don't remember," whimpered Greg, quite confused, as if he'd misplaced a key memory. He looked from face to face, they were all incredulous at his words.

Grissom stood up, took two great strides to the door and wrenched it open.

"I think Greg here could use a moment of privacy," he said, jerking his head meaningfully in the hallway's direction. "Let's all --" he stressed all, giving them a penetrating look that brooked no arguments "-- give him some time."

Catching his drift, they quickly filed out of the room, Nick going last and glancing back at Greg, who had calmed down and was staring off into space with a vacant expression.

Grissom closed the door behind him and looked around at them grimly.

"This doesn't leave here," he said.

They nodded. "Greg doesn't remember, or doesn't want to remember what happened. It's going to be up to us to keep this quiet. He doesn't need any more trouble. And we'll have to catch her on our own, now."

They nodded grimly.

"Meanwhile," continued Grissom, "Let's keep our dealings with him to a minimum, and don't mention her or anything that happened. He'll snap out of it eventually, but for now it's best if we don't upset him."

Catherine looked about ready to cry. "He doesn't really mean it, does he?" she asked, echoing all their thoughts.

Grissom shrugged, helpless to say. "I hope not, but who knows? I'll have a talk with the psychologist and see what he has to say. I know that we aren't equipped to handle this kind of denial."

Nick was only half listening. He stared into space, guilt gnawing at his insides. If he hadn't left Greg alone; if he'd talked to him, maybe he wouldn't have snapped.

As if reading Nick's thoughts, Grissom continued, "I think it would be best if one of us stayed with him. Do you think you can do that, Nick?" He stared at him expectantly, so Nick shook himself and nodded glumly.

"It's going to be hard, you know. You'll have to go along with whatever delusions he has, for now," said Grissom, still staring at Nick. "Can you handle it?"

"Yes, I can," said Nick defiantly, staring Grissom back in the eye. It was the least Nick could do, after all. Grissom seemed satisfied, and turned to the others.

"We have an investigation to continue. Let's get her," he said with a certain amount of fervor. It gave them all a burst of energy. They now had an even clearer purpose. No stone would be left unturned, to save their friend from himself. While the rest of the team headed down the hall, Grissom pulled Nick aside.

"Keep an eye on him, Nick," he whispered. "Make sure he doesn't try to leave or contact her."

Nick looked up in alarm. "You think he would?" he whispered back, shocked.

"It's possible. I think it's more likely she'll try to contact him first," said Grissom bleakly. "If she hasn't already."

Nick took a quick look around the hallway, suddenly uneasy. He nodded mutely.

"There's something going on here I don't like at all," muttered Grissom. "Keep your eyes open for anything, and keep an eye on that doctor, too."

He gave Nick another darkly meaningful look, and Nick nodded gravely. Taking one more glance down the hall, Nick sighed and stepped back into Greg's room.

______

As soon as Nick stepped inside, he heard a loud clatter. The phone swung over the edge of the nightstand, dangling by its cord. Greg snatched it up and jammed it back into its holder, face flushed with guilty energy.

"Who was that?" asked Nick sharply, letting the door go. It swung shut with an eddying current and a soft click.

"No one," smiled Greg. "Just a wrong number. The front desk got the wrong room."

Nick calmed down enough to still his movements as he walked slowly to the chair beside Greg's bed. He sat down slowly, as if trying not to spook a frightened animal.

"Why were you in such a hurry to hang up, then?" he asked, running the phone's twisted cord through his fingers.

Greg's face maintained its smile. "You scared me, so I dropped it," he lied easily.

"Listen, Greg," started Nick, but was interrupted curtly.

"I don't want to talk about it." His voice was firm, and Nick decided not to push it.

There was a moment of silence, then, "So you guys done talking about me out there?" asked Greg, pointing his chin to the door.

"Oh um, well we just thought you needed your rest, and we didn't want to get yelled at by those nurses, they're kinda scary," said Nick evasively. God, he thought, remind me not to play poker with Warrick.

But at mention of the nurses, Greg's face took on a tight, unhappy look. It took a few moments for it to pass, and Nick wondered whether he should say something else, but Greg seemed to have forgotten what they were talking about. An uncomfortable silence developed while Nick played with the telephone cord and tried to speak. He didn't like this new Greg, but couldn't think of any way to break him out of the delusions without upsetting him, and maybe doing irreversible damage. Ironically, it was Greg who broke the silence.

"Nick I wanted to thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For setting me up with Bonnie. She's great, isn't she?" he smiled happily at Nick.

Nick choked on his words, a painful lump preventing him from speaking the lies he had to utter. He succeeded in croaking out a feeble, "Oh, hmm, yeah," before Greg continued.

"You were right, you know. I hadn't had a date in such a long time, and Bonnie is just so great. She really loves me."

Nick was nearly in tears as he stared into Greg's serene face, but he mumbled, "You're...you're welcome, bro," while casting about for anything, anything to change the subject. He couldn't bear to hear Greg saying such things. Finally he grasped at something, the only thing he could think of.

"Does it hurt?"

Greg seemed to know what he meant. His eyes dulled and he leaned farther back in the bed, hissing lowly under his breath. Nick leaned forward, worried. Wrong thing to say, definitely.

"Are you okay?"

Greg waved Nick's hand away, closing his eyes. Minutes crept by as Greg relaxed. The uncomfortable silence persisted and Nick sat back in his chair, thinking Greg had forgotten about him. He was startled by a low voice.

"It hurt more, before. But I'm on heavier meds, now," whispered Greg from behind closed lids. Maybe it was a trick of the light, but Greg looked somewhat ashen.

"They lowered them, before, but then something happened and they raised them," continued Greg, his voice unhappy and defeated. Nick wanted to comfort him; he looked so lost, but dared not interrupt -- not now when they could be getting the answers they needed.

"Sometimes I remember things, strange things, from dreams," he whispered. Nick's hands tightened into fists, nails cutting into his palms. "You saved me...I remember swimming in darkness, then hearing your voice...seeing your face," sighed Greg. "But I can't remember when...before this...or after? Which ones are real?" His face tightened as he struggled, trying to remember.

"Nick..." he moaned. "Nick it hurts so much...and the nightmares...they won't go away..." he lapsed into silence.

Was Greg talking about the stabbing, or something else? Nick twitched, caught in his own conflict. He was afraid that by approaching Greg the spell would be broken; there'd be no more vulnerability. Greg would retreat behind his walls and all that would be left was that frighteningly blank smile. But how could Nick let his friend suffer like this?

"Who's the woman?" came another whisper.

"What woman?" asked Nick warily.

"The woman...from my nightmares..."

"She's the one who stabbed you, Greg. And it was me who found you and called for help," replied Nick. Greg was still, but his face was searching, trying to remember. Nick stood up and reached towards Greg. When he didn't protest, Nick pulled the blankets up around him and spoke soothingly.

"Get some rest now, Greg. You'll be safe. I'll be here the whole time," he said, and at his words Greg relaxed, the creases smoothing in his forehead.

But when Nick was sure Greg had fallen asleep, he pulled his phone hurriedly from his pocket and crossed to the opposite end of the room. He dialed quickly, muffling the sound with his body.

"Grissom."

"Hey Gris, it's me."

"Nick? Why are you whispering?" came Grissom's startled voice.

"Greg's asleep and I'm trying to be careful. Listen, Gris, I need your help. Remember what you said before? I think it's true. When I came back into the room he was on the phone, but he hung up right when I got in. He fed me some story about a wrong number, but I know it was her." Nick could feel Grissom mulling over the story and seriously hoped they thought he was rational enough to trust him.

"I left you there for a reason, Nick," said Grissom finally. "I think you're the only one who can help Greg get through this. What do you need?"

Nick breathed a sigh of relief, glancing quickly over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Gris. Can you get Archie to find out who called Greg's room?"

"Sure."

"Ok, and I promised I'd stay with him while he sleeps, so I'm going to call the front desk and have one of the security guards pick up my kit from the car."

"You think she was in there." It wasn't a question.

"So do you, Gris," said Nick with a grimace. "Even if we don't want to admit it. I also want to check out what that doctor's been up to; I don't trust him. Greg told me they were lowering the drugs, then suddenly raised them again."

"That's a serious accusation, Nick. Be careful, and don't act until you know something concrete," advised Grissom.

"I won't, Gris. I don't even care about the doctor, I just want Greg to snap out of it."

"I'll get working on that trace, and see what else we can make headway on," replied Grissom.

"Thanks," whispered Nick, hanging up.

______

Half an hour later, Nick received through a partially open door his kit and posted the security guard outside to stand watch. Nick looked around the room, trying to take in as many details as possible. Nothing looked wrong, but it was still eerie. He set the kit down on the floor and pulled out a set of gloves, then glanced over at Greg for any sign of waking, but he was still peacefully sleeping. Nick began working his way around the room, floating his brush gently over the surfaces. He was able to dismiss many of them by sight; the woman's fingerprints all had a distinctive peacock's eye whorl pattern and it made his job much easier. He knew he'd be unlikely to find her prints along the perimeter of the room, but he checked anyway. Now he crept to the bed on silent feet, running his brush over the night table, the phone, and the chair in which he'd been sitting. Frustrated, he stood back. There was nothing. He was sure she'd been in here, sure his instincts were right, but her prints weren't on any surfaces.

Well, she could have worn gloves, or never even touched him, he thought. But something nagged at him to keep going. He couldn't see her risking to break into the hospital and not touch her...object. He shuddered. Looking at Greg helplessly, a wild thought occurred to him.

No, he thought in disbelief. She couldn't have...

He dusted the bedrail closest to him, and there he found them; four perfect prints and a palm. He mimed gripping the bedrail as the prints showed and his eyes narrowed dangerously. He crossed to Greg's other side and found the same pattern of prints on the second rail. A slow hiss of astonishment escaped him before he could stop it, but he hardly cared. Revulsion and anger rose inside him. That woman had climbed on the bed...on top of Greg! Touching him, scaring him, doing god-knows what! _Right under his nose!_

Nick blinked rapidly, trying to clear his head. He snatched tape from his kit and safely stored the prints. Then, not knowing what to do, he began pacing, alternately glancing at Greg and fighting back a violent outburst. As if Greg hadn't been through enough, she had to come at him in a place that was supposed to be safe! And though they could prove she had been in the room, what good would it do? She was nobody, a ghost. She didn't exist as far as the system was concerned. But for Nick's friend, she would always exist; in his nightmares and now she could get to him anywhere he went. Nick fought back tears at the unfairness of it all. Greg must have been terrified -- no wonder he'd snapped! It must be easier for him to accept her than live with that fear, but Nick had seen the real Greg struggling to break free, and he was determined to never let him down again.

She can't get in while I'm still here, he thought. Let her try.

He jammed the palms of his hands into his burning eyes, tightening the restraints he put on his anger. There would be time enough for that later, hopefully with a couple beers and something to shoot at.

Nick went back to the door and opened it abruptly, startling the guard outside who yelped loudly. Nick glared and shushed him, then beckoned the man inside. He sat down apprehensively, Nick doing nothing to quell his unease. Towering over the man, he grated a question between his teeth.

"Were you on duty last night?"

"Well yeh, sure, those're my nights but --"

"And there were no unauthorized visitors during that time?" interrupted Nick.

"Well no but --"

"And you didn't leave your post at all during that time?" grunted Nick.

"No."

"Did you see a woman about average height, brown wavy hair come in?"

The guard shrugged and shook his head. Nick glared as if he wasn't going to take the answer, then jerked his head towards the door.

"Make sure no one gets through here except another CSI."

The guard nodded a little resentfully, leaving the room. Nick grimaced; this wasn't like him. The only excuse he had was his worry for Greg. He'd come back when this was over and apologize to the guard. His phone vibrated against his leg, causing him to jump about a foot in the air. Whipping around to make sure Greg hadn't woken up, his heart hammering in his chest, Nick fished it out.

"Stokes," he whispered, again pressing himself into a corner.

"Hey Nick, it's Archie. Why are you whispering?"

"Someone sleeping here," replied Nick impatiently. "So who called?"

"Well I couldn't get a name; it was from a pay phone," said Archie, hesitating. "But I got a location on the phone."

"And?"

"The pay phone is right outside the hospital."

Nick's sharp intake of breath went unnoticed by Archie, but there was a prolonged silence as Nick tried to control himself.

"Thanks, Arch. I'll get back to you later," said Nick, snapping his phone shut. He shook from head to toe. It wasn't professional to act like this, but he didn't even care. That _woman_...that _lunatic_...had been right outside while they were here -- they could have passed her on the way in! She could probably see into Greg's room, yes, there was the pay phone now, and she had the nerve -- _the nerve_ to _call him!_ Was there no end to her depravity? Disgust flooded him as he stood staring out the window.

I have to help Greg somehow, he thought.

But what could he do? What could he do when his biggest obstacle was Greg himself? They couldn't shock him into sanity; he might permanently snap. Desperately Nick walked to the window and peered out, but there was no one there. He pulled the curtains shut with a sharp rustle.

Look at me, I'm getting paranoid, he thought ruefully. Well, one last thing to before I get down to the long watch and jumping at every noise.

______

Doctor Kern was a small, tightly-wound man of middle age whose beady eyes started darting around the room as soon as he stepped inside, pudgy fingers adjusting his name tag compulsively. Nick's initial opinion of the doctor was only reinforced as he surveyed him with barely veiled distaste. The man was definitely afraid of something; hiding something, but Nick couldn't see him being a mastermind behind much. After all, Greg wasn't being harmed physically. Still, Nick was prepared to use all the experience he'd honed in the interrogation room to break this guy.

"Where's that psychiatrist you promised us?" asked Nick innocently.

"Dr. Teel is with other patients at the moment so he won't be able to attend to Mr. Sanders for some time yet. Since he doesn't seem to be under any duress, he's not as high priority," replied the doctor, eyes flicking to the still-sleeping form in bed.

Nick stretched languidly, cracking his knuckles. The effect of the loud crackles, magnified by the silence in the room, was instant. The doctor flinched at each pop, and Nick smiled inwardly. This guy would be easy to work over. He felt little remorse for his obvious browbeating of the poor man. Nick was pissed and the doctor was the only one around he could take it out on.

"My friend _Mr. Sanders_ mentioned that you lowered his medication."

"Yes, that's right," replied Kern, clamming up right away.

Now we're getting on touchy ground, thought Nick with satisfaction. Squirm, little man. Squirm.

"He was doing well in recovery."

"So you increase it?" Nick raised an eyebrow. Kern quailed under his fierce gaze.

"Why would you need to increase it?" pressed Nick.

"He...he was agitated so we gave him another sedative."

"Did you know that he had an unauthorized visitor?" asked Nick sharply.

"Oh?" replied Kern, trying but failing at a surprised expression. "That shouldn't have happened --"

"I'll tell you what _shouldn't_ have happened," growled Nick, getting into the man's face. "The woman responsible for attacking him," Nick pointed to Greg's slender figure, "_shouldn't_ have been able to get into this hospital and _agitate_ him, and you _shouldn't _have tried to cover it up!"

The doctor trembled at the barely suppressed fury in Nick's voice.

"Now tell me what happened!" snapped Nick. This was getting out of hand.

"He was agitated. I came to check on him. We figured out that somebody had gotten into the room. He confirmed it was the...the woman who attacked him," stammered Kern.

"So you were -- what? Trying to cover it up?" asked Nick incredulously.

"The hospital can't afford any bad publicity!" the doctor pleaded. "If word of this gets out -- that an attacker was able to get to their victim --"

"He's not a victim," snarled Nick. "He's got a name..."

"Of course, of course! But the lawsuits -- we couldn't afford it!"

"So you thought you could drug him into forgetting?"

"No, no! He was already confused about the identity of his visitor. We merely tried to keep him calm until he was ready to be discharged."

Nick almost spat in disgust. The man was a sleaze, no doubt about it, but he didn't put Greg in this situation, and he wasn't going to be of any help with a broken nose. Nick sighed.

"It didn't occur to you to tell us about the break-in?" he asked.

The doctor shrugged sheepishly. Nick rolled his eyes. Unbelievable! Well, until stupidity was a sin...

"How did she get in, anyways?" he asked, curiosity overcoming his irritation.

"We...we think she took a nurse's ID card when she dropped it."

Nick nodded thoughtfully. It made sense. Nothing that woman had done so far seemed very planned. But then why was it proving so hard to find her?

She's probably had a lot of time to hone living underground, he thought glumly. Noticing the doctor still standing there, he frowned.

"I won't tell anyone about this, but no more funny business. And if she gets in here one more time, so help me God..." he glowered at the man, who apologized profusely as he almost tripped over himself getting to the door.

Nick let out a silent howl when the door shut. That had been a complete waste of time! He plunked himself down in the chair by Greg's bed. All he'd accomplished so far was getting extremely angry and scaring a couple of hospital staff. He stared at Greg's still face. The air in the room was heavy with sleep. Minutes slipped by as he got more comfortable and finally dropped into a light doze.


	7. Releases

**Sorry about the delay. I took the rating down because there's really nothing in this story that's explicit. Of course I always have trouble writing near the end of stories. It's like a chore trying to pull it out of myself. Maybe I should get that checked out.**

She was creeping through the halls again, footsteps sending tiny vibrations through the floor that only Greg could feel. He gasped in fear and pain, knowing what was coming. There, at the door, now inside. It was her, but which her? Features were deliberately smudged. She came closer; Greg screamed in terror, but no sound came out. She grinned viciously, reading his mind. There it was, the knife again! She clutched it, readying herself; Greg screamed, pleading, but the movement had started. Her face exploded into flames and the knife finished its sickeningly bright arc into Nick's back. Nick! Oh God, Nick! Blood, grotesque rivers of it erupted in Greg's face and he screamed, thrashing against the suffocating heat, but it was only his blankets, and he could hear his voice as if from far away, pleading for Nick's life. And then he was there, shouting through the haze — Nick, reassuring. A dream. It was only a dream. Greg stopped fighting the tight knots, he opened his eyes a crack and found the room cooly dark, Nick's worried face swimming into sight. No blood, no knife, no her. Greg groaned.

You're safe, it's okay, she's not here, mouthed the figure wavering beside him.

Greg nodded shakily, gulping air. He lay back against the pillows, heart slowing its staccato pounding. Nick shifted back into his chair, still alert. He stared at Greg, half worried and half relieved. At least in his nightmares Greg knew who he should be afraid of. Nick checked his watch. He'd been sleeping for two hours, only to be woken by Greg's frantic shouts. The poor guy was fighting his own bedsheets. Nick almost wanted to ask what had been in the dream, but wisely chose not to. What had Greg been shouting, though? "Not Nick, please don't hurt him." Evidently whatever it was had involved him in some way.

When Greg finally looked back at Nick, he wore an expression of supreme embarrassment. Nick smiled, glad to see the real Greg, if only for a moment.

"Hey, man. Bad dream?" he asked lightly.

"Yeah," muttered Greg uncomfortably.

"I've been there," grinned Nick, leaning back in his chair.

Greg looked up uncertainly. "You have?"

"Sure. After Crane I couldn't sleep a full night," shrugged Nick, serious now. "Kept thinkin' there was someone in the ceiling, 'cause, well, I found out there was."

He chuckled grimly. Greg seemed to be processing this information, so Nick stayed silent, rubbing his eyes free of sleep.

"Did you get any sleep?" asked Greg.

"Some," smiled Nick. Greg returned his smile tentatively.

A knock on the door made Greg tense warily. It opened to reveal a smiling man in a lab coat. His eyes were deep-set under a pair of scraggly eyebrows. Prominent cheekbones and a jutting chin gave him the look of a weathered stump, but his smile warmed his face. He nodded to Nick and Greg, stooping slightly to get into the room.

"I keep telling them to get higher doorways," he rumbled in a deep voice. "Good morning."

Greg smiled slightly.

"Hello," said Nick carefully, standing up.

"My name is Doctor Olofsson. I came to talk to Mr. Sanders and see how he's doing," said the man, coming to stand in front of Greg's bed.

At that Greg suddenly chuckled, breaking into the first genuine grin Nick had seen in days.

"What is it?" he asked, somewhat alarmed.

Greg glanced at him, still smiling. "His name is Olofsson. Son of Olof....He could be my father."

Nick stared at Greg, unsure whether it was a joke or a byproduct of his painkillers, but he laughed with the doctor, who, for his part, seemed genuinely amused by it.

"So you're the shrink?" asked Greg, the smile slipping from his face.

"If you want. I really just came to talk, no head shrinking required," the man smiled.

Greg shrugged. The vacant look was creeping back into his eyes.

"I believe you'll find some acquaintances of yours that will be very happy to see you, out there," said Dr. Olofsson, smiling pleasantly at Nick. Getting the message, Nick tried to sound reassuring.

"I'll be right outside, ok buddy?" Greg nodded.

When Nick stepped out into the hallway, he was greeted by the most wonderful smell in the world — roast coffee, and an enthusiastic Catherine, who hugged him fiercely. He patted her on the back gratefully, eyes still on the dangling bag in Warrick's hand.

"For me?" he grinned. Warrick laughed and handed it over.

"We figured you might need some fuel after babysitting," he joked.

Nick shot him a dark glare between bites.

"Not funny," he mumbled. "Greg's in deep..." Not wanting to talk about what he'd witnessed, he turned instead to the case.

"So what'd you find out? Anything new?" he asked hopefully, starting on his coffee.

"We have nothing new," said Sara apologetically.

"Nothing? How is that possible?" exclaimed Nick.

"Well we have _something_," sighed Catherine. "We can definitely prove she did it."

"We just don't know _where_ she is," finished Warrick. "Sorry, man."

"Tell Greg that," muttered Sara.

"So that's it?" cried Nick, jumping up. His shaking hand clutched the coffee cup.

"There's nothing more we can do, Nick," said Catherine, laying a calming hand on his arm. "We have officers checking homeless shelters, motels, you name it, but we can't do much more. Until she makes her next move. If she does."

"Oh she definitely will," sighed Nick, slumping onto a bench again.

"So she was definitely there?" asked Sara, lips tightening. "We heard what Archie said."

"Yeah, I got her prints in there," said Nick heavily. He didn't mention where he'd found them; no sense getting everyone upset.

"Well she can't do anything if we're watching him, right?" smiled Catherine hopefully.

"We'll see," said Grissom. "They told me he's set to be released today, if he checks out fine."

"What? No!" Nick jumped up again, sending hot coffee flying. "Greg can't be trusted alone!"

"They can't keep him, Nick. Neither can we. Not if he doesn't want to stay," said Grissom.

Nick looked around, appealing to each of them in turn, but they stared back mutely, unable to give him what he wanted.

"Maybe the shrink will help us," he said bitterly, turning away.

Grissom glanced over doubtfully. "Maybe. I think Greg might have to get out of this one by himself."

Nick shook his head stubbornly. "I'll be right there to help him. That's what friends are for."

Grissom looked sympathetic, but there was a worried crease in his forehead. Just then, the door to Greg's room opened and the doctor stepped out, closing it behind him softly.

"Well? Is he okay?" demanded Nick.

The doctor regarded him appraisingly.

"Mr. Sanders will be fine, I think. With a little time and luck, and of course help from his friends, he will get over this. It's a reaction to the stress of the event."

The team breathed a sigh of relief, except for Nick.

"What about...her?" he asked intently.

"He will get over that, too."

"So he's repressing the event?" asked Sara.

"No, repression is different, and anyways I am not a Freudian," smiled the doctor.

"So you're releasing him," said Nick, a sick feeling of dismay rising.

"He is lucid enough and no danger to himself or others. I'm afraid we have to," said Dr. Olofsson, somewhat apologetically.

"How do we talk to him?" asked Catherine.

"Talk to him normally. Do not try to fabricate answers. You should refer to events as they really happened, but if at any time he becomes agitated, change the subject and drop it."

They nodded seriously.

"Can we see him?" asked Sara.

"Yes, for a little while," he said, moving away from the door so they could go inside. Nick stepped forward but the doctor stopped him, motioning him to step away.

"I was wondering if I may have a word with you. Nick, right?" he smiled crookedly.

Nick nodded warily.

"It's all right, nothing to be worried about. I just wanted to tell you that you should stay close to your friend. He seems to trust you the most."

Nick nodded, a sad smile tugging at his mouth. What irony, that he was trusted so much when his guilt told him he should be avoided at all costs.

"You were the one who found him?" asked Dr. Olofsson, a sharp eye on Nick's face.

"Yeah..."

"You are the closest to his world, to the situation: he will trust your version much more. I think you will be the one to break through to him. It is important for him to know that nothing will change as a result of his perceived weakness."

"Weakness? He wasn't weak..." said Nick in surprise.

"Mr. Sanders feels he was weak for trusting her. Let him know that you still see him the same. That you are still his friend. He will come out of it when he is ready."

Nick stared at the floor, wondering how in the world he was going to get Greg to see the truth.

"He will be fine, don't worry," smiled the doctor reassuringly. Nick grunted, hoping he was right.

______

Nick stuck around for the rest of the day, despite Grissom's hints that he might get back to work. He still had a few vacation days stored up, and although they were now severely understaffed with Greg's absence, he'd be damned if he left now. A nagging feeling told him that it wasn't over. She would try something else — something much crazier. Who knew what Greg had unwittingly agreed to? Nick would stay right by his side for as long as he could. But if he thought that Greg's behaviour would get better after the vulnerability his nightmare caused, he was most definitely wrong. Greg was just as reticent and distant as ever, refusing to talk about what happened and barely acknowledging Nick's attempts at conversation. Finally Nick gave up in frustration and they sat stiffly in each other's company, each trying hardest not to look at the other.

Despite his best efforts, after not having slept soundly for a few days and feeling incredibly uncomfortable being awake during the day, Nick dropped off, chin bumping into his chest. Greg looked over when he was asleep and lazily reached for the telephone. Something had triggered in his mind and he dialed a number known only to himself. He stared at his hands dreamily, then spoke when someone evidently picked up.

"I'm ready to leave."

He smiled happily at whatever was said in reply.

"Thirty minutes, sure," he said.

Greg placed the phone back carefully on its receiver, looking thoughtfully at Nick's sleeping form. A flicker of regret crossed Greg's face, but he seemed unable to harness the thought behind it. Shrugging it off, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, wincing slightly as unused muscles flexed his bandages. He rose slowly, holding onto the railing until he found his equilibrium. He couldn't believe how weak and light-headed the drugs had made him. Sighing, he made his way to where Catherine had kindly left him some clothes. Dressing was slow work, but he managed it without too much trouble.

He looked around the room; at the closed curtains, which comforted him, and the bed, which made him uneasy. Something had happened there...something he didn't want to think about. A buried memory rose unbidden in his mind, but he squashed it mercilessly. When he finished looking over the room, his gaze lingered on Nick and he almost decided against leaving. His presence was comforting in a way Greg couldn't understand. They'd shared something immensely important, but what it was he couldn't pinpoint. Still...there was someone waiting for him.

______

Somewhere in the city, a woman sat in a stolen car. She stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror, blinking slowly as if unsure who this person really was. A hand reached up and caressed her cheek. He had touched her there. Kissed her there. A slow smile spread across her face. Eyes glazed, she moved the car into the street, still stroking her cheek absentmindedly.

______

He moved out into the hallway and towards the front desk. It was easy to leave; he was, after all, Greg Sanders, and had every right to release himself. Standing outside the hospital, he blinked in the blinding light and clutched the small bottle of painkillers he'd been given. Just as he was starting to rethink his ability to leave a bed, and contemplating taking the entire bottle right then, a car pulled up in front of him, a familiar head of hair visible behind the wheel. Greg shivered, though the day outside was sweltering. She reached over to the door and pushed it open, smiling her wicked grin. He lowered himself into the passenger seat apprehensively, closing the door. She caught his face in a fierce grip and pulled him in for a breathless kiss. Greg groaned as strange feelings surged inside him. A moment of pure disgust caught him and he almost wrenched the door open so he could run away, but it passed and Greg just stared in confusion at the woman who stirred such emotions in him. She smiled, not noticing, and started the engine.

______

Something was wrong. He could feel it. There was something missing. A presence. Nick thrashed in the darkness, searching for whatever he'd lost, but he couldn't find it — no! There it was, on the floor! Nick raced to the bundle discarded on the floor and realized in horror it was Greg. Greg, huddled in a lifeless heap, blood pooling around him and a knife — _the_ knife! — protruding from his back. Nick cried out in anguish, falling to his knees. He'd failed! Failed again!

Nick's eyes sprang open, he yelled and jumped up, heart thumping painfully. The room stared back, silent and dark. The panic settled in Nick's heart, but a new fear replaced it. Where was Greg? He turned, scanning the room, but it was empty, save for a discarded hospital gown and — the clothes! The clothes Catherine had brought were gone! Nick clutched his head in disbelief — that psycho couldn't have come in while he was sleeping and kidnapped Greg, could she? No, it must have been with Greg's consent. That fool! He'd walked away with his would-be killer! And Nick had failed again; failed to protect him. He blinked away tears of frustration. But this was much worse. Somehow he knew that if Greg went with her, this would be his last. They would never see him again. He reacted with the instincts borne of desperation; tearing the door open he raced down the hall to reception.

"Where did Greg Sanders go?" he shouted into the frightened nurse's face. She stuttered in surprise.

"When did he leave?" asked Nick again, calming his voice.

"He checked himself out half an hour ago," she said, wide-eyed.

"And he was alone?" cried Nick in disbelief.

"Y-Yes," she squeaked. "But he met someone with a car out there," she gestured out the glass front doors.

Nick's anger rose again and he nodded curtly to the woman, not trusting himself to speak. Where was security, again? But mostly he berated himself. How could he have fallen asleep, _again?_ He ran out into the parking lot, looking this way and that, but of course there was no sign of them. They were long gone. The time for investigation was long past — it was time for action. Nick quickened his pace and rushed to his car, pulling his phone out and dialing while he ran.

"Gris! Get Brass and go to Greg's apartment! She's got him! They're out of the hospital!" he shouted when someone picked up. Fumbling with his phone and keys, he finally jammed the keys into the lock and juggled the phone on his shoulder.

"I just know! I know that psycho will take him there, don't ask me how I just do! I can feel it!" he shouted in desperation.

Because he did know. He could feel it in his bones, along with the certainty that now Greg was in more danger than he'd ever been in before.

"Look, I don't care if you believe me or not. I'm going there. Greg needs me!" he shouted finally and snapped the phone shut, throwing it onto the passenger seat in disgust.

He gunned the car and tore out of his spot, still mentally berating himself for his gross incompetence. Greg didn't even have a gun. He looked down at his own weapon reassuringly buckled to his hip and prayed she wasn't hurting him.

When he pulled up to Greg's apartment, having broken any number of records getting there, he didn't even bother locking the car. Tearing across the parking lot he hoped Grissom had taken his warning seriously; Nick wasn't sure at all of what he'd find in Greg's apartment. Hell, maybe he was wrong and they hadn't come here — maybe they'd find Greg in some ditch along the highway with his throat slit open. Shuddering with urgency, Nick took the stairs two at a time and soon came to Greg's door. It was half-open, which instantly confirmed his suspicions. He slowed down and eased his gun out of its holster. He rushed into the apartment, sweeping the gun around in a circle. There was no one there, except...except for Greg's closed bedroom door. Nick walked purposefully towards it, anger rising as the muffled voices became clearer. She was there. That lunatic had the nerve to bring him back here...

Nick tightened his grip on the gun and turned his shoulder to the door. Taking a deep breath, he lunged at the door with all his strength, splintering the lock and barging through the opening into the room, gun raised at the ready.


	8. Bye, Now

**Thanks to all my readers and reviewers, and even to all those hundreds of readers that didn't leave a note! It's time for me to put this baby to bed, and follow my pen to greener stories. Rest assured this is how I intended it to end, though. Stay tuned for more angst coming up soon, all FLoG (For Love of Greg).**

They went back to his place, of course. There seemed to be no consideration on her part that this was an unusual move, that this place may hold painful memories for him. He, for what it was worth, seemed to care little where they were going as she led him up the stairs. The closer they came to his apartment, however, the more he came to his senses. The sight of his door caused him to stop, but she pulled him forward with an implacable hand. Something clicked inside him. He could remember this. He'd done this once before, but with someone else...It must have been someone else, for the adoring look she graced him with couldn't have come from that other person. She wrapped an arm around his waist, supporting him as they stepped through the door. He grinned at her.

"Well, this is my place," he said, gesturing. "Do you like it?"

She glanced around perfunctorily, then smiled in amused fascination. "Of course, dear. You showed me before, don't you remember?"

Greg nodded, smiling back with hesitation. "Oh...of course."

It was some weeks after the incident, so the police had released the scene and there was no sign of tape or blood. When they looked inside the eerily silent bedroom Greg blinked in confusion.

"Where did my mattress go? And my sheets?"

Bonnie ignored him. She was growing increasingly agitated and kept looking over her shoulder.

"You sent them to get cleaned, honey," she said. Greg shook his head as if clearing it.

"Come on, get your stuff together. We don't want to be late for our train, do we?" she urged him, her voice dripping with dulcet tones.

"No..." he hesitated.

This room...it was his, but something was wrong. He looked to the window instinctively, but it was closed. Someone must have closed it for him, he thought, more at ease. Someone? No, it must have been him. Greg gripped his head in both hands as the confusion overwhelmed him. Something was trying to break free of the restraints he'd put on it. Something that would destroy his peace of mind. He whimpered, clutching his head tighter.

Bonnie turned to face him. Her body pressed into his and she placed her hands on his chest, even as her lips stifled his groans and he forgot all his cares.

"You love me, don't you?" she asked, intense eyes piercing him.

"Yes," he said, unable to tear his eyes away.

"Get your stuff, then," she gave him a wicked grin as she walked to the window and checked the parking lot furtively.

Greg knelt down beside the bed, opening his closet and grabbing the first duffel bag he found. Stuffing clothes haphazardly into the bag from an open drawer, he moved as slowly as he could so as not to aggravate his still-store back. He was glad to be rid of the claustrophobic feel of the hospital. Now he could get back to his job and...and what? He looked up at the woman's expectant face and it wavered. Now it was the face of his personal demon, who'd haunted his nightmares for weeks. He gripped his head forcefully, crumpling against himself, and shook his head trying to get rid of the visions. He groaned again, eyes squeezed shut against the reality he couldn't trust.

A crash broke him out of his haze and he stared up in shock.

Nick stood in the doorway, puffing with exertion and adrenaline. He adjusted his grip on the gun pointed firmly towards the woman now crouching beside Greg. In two great strides she'd jumped over the bed and was pressed against him, mouth set in a feral snarl. Greg sat back, transfixed by Nick's appearance. He was terrible in his fury, inarticulate rage shaking his body.

"You...dare...take him..." he managed to growl, "Bring him here...HERE! You dare bring him here where you tried to kill him, you psycho?!"

Greg stared helplessly at the barrel pointed at them. Something wrenched inside him — he couldn't tell what was right anymore. The world turned on its head; was that Nick standing beside him with a protective arm around his shoulders? Yes, it must be. Nick promised to protect him. But so did she...she'd sworn she loved him. Greg turned uncertain eyes to hers; they burned at him, hard as agates.

"Tell him, Greg," she snarled, smothering his unresponsive lips in a fierce kiss. "Tell him you want to be with me!"

Greg moaned, wrenching his face away from her and clutching his head with his free hand. He couldn't think, couldn't decide! But surely if she told him he'd done so before, surely he could trust her? He looked from her face to Nick's, searching for truth. His eyes pleaded with them both, for there to be no more violence — not on his account.

"Come on, buddy," said Nick, his voice coming clearly through the haze. Greg clung to it like a lifeline. It buoyed him, tore him away from her mesmerizing stare. He half turned, eager to hear more of his calming words, but she grabbed his arm painfully, fingers digging into his flesh. He looked back at her and his world shattered once more. Surely her intensity was undying devotion. She wanted to protect him.

"Don't listen to him," she breathed into his ear. "He doesn't understand us."

"Greg, man, think about it. I would never lie to you," said Nick loudly, cutting into her murmuring. There it was again, the voice of reason. "She's the one from your dreams. She did it."

Greg sobbed, a great heaving groan that tore through his body and unearthed his sleeping demons. No! He shook his head free. It couldn't be! Not her! Because then this would all be farce. She — the demon, the accursed, who had pursued him through his worst nightmares brandishing that bloody knife — she would be here, now, again in his bedroom. He couldn't bear it, the violation. He pleaded, tears falling. Please don't let it be.

"Don't listen to him!" she shrieked, pushing him in front of her, an arm wrapped around his neck. "Tell him! Tell him how much you love me!"

Her voice rose to fever pitch, nails digging into his arm, but he could hardly hear. He fought with the locks, the locks keeping him from the truth. Nick kept talking, calmer now, adjusting his sweaty hands on the grip of his weapon.

"Greg, come on. You know me. It's Nick. We're buddies. I wouldn't try to hurt you or your...girlfriend," he choked out through gritted teeth, frowning with the effort it took. Her eyes gleamed triumphantly.

"She's not —" started Greg.

"Yes, yes, see Greg. He won't hurt me," she whispered into his ear, causing a shiver to cascade down his body. "Let's go now, Greg."

Greg moaned with fear and met Nick's gaze.

"No..." he croaked, and then all hell broke loose. The last lock snapped and he screamed; screamed with the pain of the knife, memories of it violating his body. Screamed with the pain of betrayal, with the humiliation of being found, and of being unsafe and unclean. Unclean as long as she could find him, find him and touch him! She could find him anywhere! He thrashed in her arms, gut-wrenching sobs shaking his body, because now he could remember, and the spell was broken.

Nick flinched at the sound of Greg's screams. They were pure anguish, betrayal, and hopelessness. He tightened his grip in sympathy, but kept talking quietly and continuously.

"It's ok, Greg, we're all here for you. She'll be gone forever now."

But she grasped his struggling body tighter, glaring at Nick with the snarling face of a cornered animal. Nick raised his voice to be heard above Greg's cries, hoping he could understand.

"No one knows about this but us, G. Our opinion of you will never change!"

"Put the gun down," yelled Bonnie, pulling Greg closer. Nick hesitated, but with Greg between them he couldn't do anything. His struggles had grown weaker and Nick worried his wound had opened again.

"Let him go, Bonnie," he said as calmly as he could. As if this was just another hostage. His eyes flicked around impatiently. Where were Brass and the others?

She gritted her teeth, still clutching Greg possessively. He was limp now, sobs shuddering through his body and eyes staring into space. She frowned, trying to bring the situation back under control, muttering to herself.

"What's that?" asked Nick loudly. There was nothing to it, he was just buying more time before she did something even more rash and crazy. She fixed him with a baleful stare.

"You wouldn't hurt my lover," she said, eyes darting from his face to the steady gun.

"He is not and never was your lover," spat Nick, moving the gun so its barrel pointed directly at her head, but she hissed and shifted Greg's body so his head blocked the shot.

Nick swore under his breath in alarm. He'd guessed right; a crimson stain was spreading across Greg's shirt, his groans were filled with pain as the awkward angle and Bonnie's merciless tugging was undoing his bandages.

"If you care about Greg at all, let him go," cried Nick. "He's in pain!"

"He's mine!" shrieked Bonnie, finally losing control. She staggered to her feet, dragging Greg up with one hand. He moaned, eyes glazed.

Greg, man, wake up, pleaded Nick silently. He couldn't make a move without the risk of hurting him.

As the pair moved towards the window, Greg's tortured gaze met Nick's. There was a moment of recognition, and something in his eyes told Nick that it was okay — Greg was ready. He'd had enough. Greg sprang into action, elbowing Bonnie in the stomach. She released him with a yell of surprise. He fell backwards heavily, hitting the ground with a strangled moan before Nick could move. He stepped forward, ready to grab the woman, but she recovered and scrambled backwards on hands and knees. Nick stepped forward again, torn between wanting to help Greg and getting the psycho under control.

"How could you!" she screamed, tears falling openly. Greg stared in frozen shock at the gun that now pointed at him, shaking with the tremors of the hand that held it. Nick froze, too. Where had she gotten a gun?

"I told you I loved you!" she continued, a manic edge creeping into her voice.

"I...I..." Greg tried to say something, but it stuck in his throat until the anger and humiliation overwhelmed him and he raised himself on one elbow, face contorting in rage.

"You stabbed me you bitch!" he yelled, not even caring that the gun was wavering inches from his face.

"I didn't! That wasn't me!" she screeched, spittle flecking her lips.

But Greg was on a roll now. All the self-loathing and humiliation that had him retreating into denial was surfacing now as a torrent of words flew at the woman he hated more than life itself.

"You liar! You betrayed my trust! You used me and attacked me and threw me to the side! I don't love you and I never did and you disgust me, you vindictive piece of shit!" he screamed.

"I feel disgusting and dirty and I can't believe you touched me!" he screamed louder, raising himself further though the blood was spreading faster now. It was taking its toll on him, but Nick refused to stop it — this was it. This is what was going to get Greg on the path to recovery.

Let it out, buddy, he thought, leveling the gun at her head.

"No!" she shook her head, as if his words were physical blows. "No, you love me! You said you...love me!"

"I was out of my mind because YOU TRICKED ME!" he screamed, losing all control now. Every scream of rage escaping him was tearing at his lungs, at his throat, but it was a wonderful, cleansing fire. All the poison was leaving his body as he screamed his rage and defiance at her. "You freaking tricked me 'cause you're a FREAKING PSYCHO!"

"No!" she shrieked again, shaking violently.

"And I believed you like the idiot I was. Some CSI I am," he cried brokenly, bowing his head as his body couldn't sustain the anger anymore.

"That's not true and you know it, Greg," said Nick sternly.

"I didn't fool you, you wanted to believe!" shouted Bonnie.

"Shut up you psycho!" exploded Nick. "Because of you I feel guilty for hurting my friend. And that's crap because you know what, it's not my fault or his fault!"

He faced her, spitting his defiance in her face. "It's your fault!"

"No!" she snarled, raising the gun to point at Nick.

Greg moaned, trying to lift himself and stop her, but he fell back on his elbow with a hiss of pain. Nick met her eyes and smiled.

"You know what, bitch? I'm tired of being at your mercy, and I know Greg is, too," he grinned at Greg, who looked at him in amazement.

"Here, buddy," he said, tossing his gun to a surprised Greg.

Nick raised his arms in surrender, staring cooly down at Bonnie. Greg caught the gun and raised it uncertainly, pointing it at her. Her momentary surprise was replaced by amusement and she threw her head back with a frightening bark of laughter.

Suddenly she snapped back, the manic glint back in her eyes. She raised her gun to point squarely at Nick, and with that one movement Greg finally lost it.

"You!" she screamed at Nick, eyes twitching. "You ruined everything!"

"No, you ruined everything you freak!" roared Greg, staggering up. After everything, to threaten Nick, it was the last straw. He'd never let her hurt Nick!

Greg saw it in slow motion. Her finger, poised over the trigger, tightening in preparation.

BANG!

Greg reacted on instinct, and fell back with a grunt of pain as the energy of the blast recoiled against him. Nick flinched at the gunshot, but recovered quickly and stepped forward in alarm. Reaching Greg he caught him as he sagged, helping him to his feet.

Greg's face was still frozen in the shock of the moment. The gun dropped from his numb fingers and fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Staring down at Bonnie's still face, he noticed the blood already seeping into the floorboards. He'd have to clean that up, somehow. And then it hit him. He'd killed her.

Nick looked down, too. She almost looked peaceful in death, but the memories of her misdeeds were still too fresh in his mind to see her as anything but a monster.

There was another crash behind them. Nick and Greg both jumped in alarm. Turning, they saw Brass framed in the doorway, gun drawn. Grissom, the team, and what looked like half the force was clustered behind him, breathless from running. Their surprised faces were the only signs to what had happened in the room. Greg slumped against Nick in relief. It was finally over.

______

Once the paramedics had patched Greg's wound again and most of the officers had left, the team stood in his living room, observing as the rest of the damage was dealt with. Greg's door lay in a splintered heap on the floor and the stretcher with the woman's body was being carefully wheeled past and out into the hallway. The apartment felt heavy with the weight of death.

Greg didn't join in the team's relieved chatter — he still had a lot to process, even if he did have his memories back. He stood a little way apart from them, eyes misty with thought. Eventually he noticed a lull in the conversation and turned back. They smiled at him warmly, evidently trying to put him at ease. His smile was tentative, but it was there. The road to recovery wasn't finished yet, but at least he would always have his friends behind him. Especially Nick. He graced him with a particularly grateful smile. Nick laughed and stepped over to his side.

"Well, Greg. I guess we both have stalkers now," he grinned, clapping a hand on Greg's shoulder and pulling him to his side tightly.

Greg and the rest of the team stared at Nick in uncertain silence. It dragged on and on, no one sure how to react to Nick's frank assessment of the situation, until suddenly Greg began to laugh weakly, gaining in intensity until he was bent over, clutching his side in pain. He came up slowly, gasping for air and with tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I guess we do," he said, laughing warmly with Nick. They walked out the door together, supporting each other as they laughed uproariously at the private joke.


End file.
